But he was so silent that even Frankie hadn’t realized he was in here.

There was no light for Aric to see, and Hawk gritted his teeth as the sharp blade cut him several times in the process. But the strands were loosening, falling away, one by one.

With all his strength, he yanked at the ropes. The last ones broke, and he was free—even as the knife sliced down his wrist.

Aric squeaked in dismay.

Frankie gasped.

“Shhh.” Hawk took the knife and cut the ropes binding his ankles. Good blade. Actually, it felt damn familiar in his hand.

Outside, gravel crunched.

Fuck. The guards must have heard Aric’s squeak and were heading around the van toward the back.

Hawk pulled the boy against his side and breathed, “Stay down.”

Regan had heard a sound like a mouse from inside the van. Friggers, Aric.

The guards had heard too. Under the van, she saw feet moving toward the back of the van. Tucked behind the rear wheel, she waited.

Closer, closer.

She picked her spot—the place above the man’s boot. Braced on one hand, she stabbed her knife really, really hard into his leg.

“Shit!” His leg jerked away, pulling the knife right out of her hand.

Oh no. She scrabbled backward as fast as she could.

There was a thump, like he hit the van, and then he dropped to his knees. She tensed, knowing he’d look under the van. Would shoot her.

Only…he fell over sideways and just lay there, not moving or anything.

She wiggled even farther back under the vehicle.

Stabbing a leg couldn’t kill someone…could it?

Why was Kit yelling at Nabera? What was her bestie thinking?

Get away from him, Kit. Frankie couldn’t stop trembling, terrified for herself, for Hawk, and now for Kit.

A few seconds ago, Hawk whispered, Shhh, only she hadn’t made any noise. Then something thumped against the side of the van.

She felt movement behind her. Hawk? Had he gotten free?

“Shhh,” he whispered again, only a breath of a sound.

The ropes around her wrists pulled tighter, then fell off completely. As blood surged back into her hands, she smothered a moan. Cazzo, that hurt.

He closed her half-numb fingers around a knife handle and whispered, “Cut your legs loose.”

Hearing a guard’s footsteps approaching, she sawed frantically on the ropes binding her ankles.

The PZ appeared in the van’s doorway.

Half-standing, Hawk grabbed the man’s shoulders and yanked. The PZ’s head hit the top of the doorway with a gut-wrenching crunch, and he dropped bonelessly to the ground.

Frankie’s ankles were free. As her circulation returned, her feet returned to life in waves of searing pain. Ow, ow, ow.

Jumping out of the van, Hawk bent to pick up the PZ’s rifle.

As Frankie followed him out, she felt something behind her and spun.